The house elves sent them breakfast, two trays overloaded with food to try and keep up with Draco's appetite. Though after Potter's run-in with the wolf, he ate nearly half of it himself.

After the last bite of toast was used to mop up the last smear of egg yolk, and the trays disappeared, Draco stood up. He tried to straighten his clothes, but they were hopelessly sleep rumpled. "I'm going to go see Hagrid," Draco said.

"What?" Potter said.

Draco raised his eyebrows, "I said-"

"I heard you," Potter said, a hint of...something in his voice, "You're going to see Hagrid, and what am I supposed to do?"

"Rest?" Draco suggested and then realised what the tone and the look, all of it was, Potter was pouting. "Oh..." he couldn't quite stop a delighted smile.

Potter frowned at him, "What?"

"Nothing," Draco said, trying to fight the smile down, "You could go up to the tower, or find Weasley, or rest here. I'll only be an hour, maybe two."

"Fine," Potter flopped face-first onto the bed.

Draco moved the hair off Potter's back that was sticking to the half absorbed bruise balm. He decided Potter's own words would be most suited to this moment, "When kids are grumpy, it's time for a nap."

Potter turned his head to the side to glare at Draco.

Draco pulled off Potter's glasses and set them on the night table. The glare became far more squinty, which made Draco laugh.

"fuck off," Potter muttered.

"I plan to," Draco said.

Potter caught his hand when Draco turned to leave and gave it the briefest squeeze.

Draco squeezed back before Potter let go.

-

-

Draco raised his hand to knock on the door of Hagrid's cabin, the knock sounding very small against the heavy wood. He waited and was almost certain he'd have to knock again when the door was pulled open.

"Oh, it was someone then," Hagrid said, "Yeh got ter knock louder than that if yeh want to be heard."

Draco nodded, "Sorry, I know it's early. I was wondering-"

"Were yeh hopin' to do some flyin'?" Hagrid asked.

Draco nodded again, "I need more practice."

"Come in then," Hagrid gestured him inside, "Jus' finished eatin' so I'll need a bit of time to get all me winter kit on."

Draco hurried inside. He wasn't really dressed for winter, he hadn't planned to come outside last night when he'd gone looking for Potter.

Fang got up from the rug by the fire, his tail wagging tentatively as he walked over. He sniffed Draco's outstretched hand, his tail thumping loudly against all the furniture around him as he recognised Draco.

"Good boy, Fang," Hagrid said, patting the boar-hound on the back as he walked past to get his boots. He sat in the big armchair by the fire and pulled them in front of him.

Draco scratched behind Fang's ears and did his best to avoid being covered in slobber; his hands got the worst of it, Fang too excited to care where he was licking.

"I also wanted to ask you something," Draco said nervously.

"Go on then," Hagrid said.

"How do you avoid getting hurt?"

"I suspect yeh aren't talkin' 'bout physically," Hagrid said.

"No," Draco said.

Hagrid pulled on a boot, "Well, tell me what yeh do mean then."

Draco looked down at Fang, "What if there was someone... someone who hasn't seen me fully transformed yet, and I'm- I'm afraid they might think I'm a monster. And be disgusted, and it would ruin everything..."

Hagrid nodded thoughtfully as he tied up his other boot, "Do yeh like stories much?"

"I used to," Draco said, "They don't tend to end well for the creatures-"

"Like us," Hagrid said.

Draco nodded reluctantly.

"There's one I'm fond of," Hagrid said, "It's from japan, I think. It's called 'the crane wife'. Have yeh heard of it?"

"I don't think so," Draco said.

"There are lots of versions of it, all sorts of twists, but there's one that always sort of stuck with me," Hagrid said.

Draco hands petting Fang's short glossy fur and slowed as he listened.

"It's about this crane, she sees this fisherman and falls head over heels in love with the bloke," Hagrid said, his voice slow and careful as he picked out his words, "so she plucks out all her feathers to become a lady, an' a beautiful one at that. An' he's head over heels for her soon as he sees her, so's they get married. But to keep from turning back into a crane, she's got ter keep pluckin' her feathers out. Every night she does it while he's asleep, even though it wears her thin. O' course, eventually, she's too tired an' falls asleep instead, an' the next mornin' her husband finds she's a crane and he chases her away."

Fang whined against Draco's still hands, and he belated scratched the top of his head, swallowing hard against the bitterness at the back of his throat, "If she had told him from the beginning-"

"She was the same person, of a sort, no matter how she looked. If the crane lady thought he'dve been amenable from the start she'd never have thought she had ter plunk her feathers out," Hagrid said, "Yeh see the meaning then?"

Draco had already said what he thought. He didn't know what else it could be.

Hagrid shook his head, "Yeh cannot change who yeh are, and yeh shouldn't hurt yerself tryin' to make others happy, to fit what they think you ought to be."

Draco just stared at him. He'd spent his entire life trying to fit in, trying to be what he was supposed to be, a Slytherin, a pureblood, a Malfoy.

Hagrid stood up and took his coat from a hook by the door, "When it comes to people an' not getting hurt... The way I see it, it hurts either way, doesn't it? Bein' alone hurts, an' tryin' to get close ter someone' who pushes yeh away hurts. But if they like yeh for who yeh are, then it's worth it."

"I suppose..." Draco said uncertainly

"Ain't easy ter put yerself out there. I know. I've had a lifetime of tryin', but I wouldna' trade my friends fer anything." Hagrid said.

"...I've never had to try to make friends before," Draco said, though the honesty was a struggle, "It feels- it feels so big, like a completely foreign language. Like I was supposed to learn it when I was a child with everyone else, but I missed out."

"Folks learn differen' languages all the time. It might be hard but not impossible. Most things aren't if you put yer mind to 'em. Jus' got ter take it one step at a time," Hagrid said. He patted Draco's shoulder, his touch surprisingly light and careful from a lifetime of learning how to manage his strength.

Draco nodded, "Thank you. That was very helpful."

"Yeh don't have to be so formal with me, yeh know," Hagrid said.

Draco smiled sourly, "I can't really trust myself to speak without thinking. Too much of who I was escapes if I don't watch myself."

Hagrid grinned, "Looks like yer learnin' that new language already, eh?"

Draco sighed.

Hagrid chuckled, giving Draco's shoulder a quick squeeze, "Come on then, let's get goin'."

-

-

"You see that there?" Pomfrey pointed to a thread of bright blue amidst the purple.

Hermione nodded, her eyes focused on the diagnostic spell shrouding Thomas.

"That blue indicates that something is interfering with Thomas' normal cellular processes and that narrows it down to a virus or bacteria of some kind," Pomfrey said.

"That's... rather vague," Hermione said carefully, trying desperately to restrain her frustration.

Pomfrey glanced over at her with that small sort of smile that was only very slightly patronising, and drove Hermione absolutely up a wall.

"It may seem that way, but it allows us to rule out a physical injury and that it's not lycanthropy taking hold, that's usually a yellow or orange thread of colour and isn't typically visible until three or four weeks after exposure," Pomfrey said.

"Because the disease responds to moonlight and therefore grows stronger as the moon waxes," Hermione said. She had taken up some light side-reading about werewolves after Harry had begun getting fixated about them.

Pomfrey nodded, "You'll make a wonderful healer one day, Hermione."

"What next?" Hermione asked.

"Since it's not something I'm familiar with, I'll have to put the memory of the tests into a pensieve and go through my diagnostic manuals until I find a match. If I can't find a match I might be able to find a more fine-tuned diagnostic spell," Pomfrey said.

Hermione bit her lip to keep her words in. If she made Pomfrey mad, she might not let Hermione help, and she so wanted to help, but going through books? If they digitised the information and used a search they could find an answer in minutes; instead, they were just going to look through books, and as much as she loved books, it was SO inefficient when who knew how much time they might have-

"Are you alright, dear?" Pomfrey asked, "Thomas will be fine. The number of maladies that affect the magic community are far fewer than those that affect muggles."

Hermione forced a tight smile, "I... I'm just worried that we won't have enough time."

"A ten-one stasis charm is standard protocol. Unless there is evidence of extremely dire circumstances we can't increase it," Pomfrey said.

"Stretching one day into ten is just- what if the virus or bacteria is fast-acting? What if it causes serious harm before we can stop it?" Hermione pressed.

"The longer a stasis spell is, the more difficult it is to remove," Pomfrey said, as if Hermione didn't already know that. There were even muggle fairy tales about enchanted sleep. The longer a day was stretched, the more likely it was you would need old magic to wake them up again.

"Madam Pomfrey," a voice broke into their conversation belonging to one of the girls that were Thomas' friends. They were both there peeking around the door, "May we see Thomas?" Yasmin asked.

"You may. but I'm afraid he's going to be sleeping for a while longer," Pomfrey said.

The two girls hurried inside, standing close together at the side of his bed.

"You see, we think Thomas caught a bug of some kind. We'll have him healed up in no time, but until then he has so stay asleep," Pomfrey said.

Imogen looked immediately put out by the information, "How long?"

"Not long, I'm sure," Pomfrey said.

Yasmin was frowning, she nervously smoothed her short black hair, "If you have to keep him asleep, it must be bad."

Hermione took a step back, trying to extract herself from the conversation so she could go to the library.

Pomfrey noticed. "Hermione, don't leave just yet, I'll lend you some of my books."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she quickly nodded. She wanted those books. But she didn't particularly want to mollify a pair of third-years. So she carefully extracted herself when Pomfrey wasn't paying her any attention and went back to Harry's bed. 

She knew Ron had gone back to the tower to get his beloved lie-in, at least until after lunch when they were going to have to start studying again, but she had expected Malfoy to stay. Or for both of them to leave. Malfoy always struck Hermione as a needy sort of person. But maybe she was wrong? Hermione frowned, sitting on the bed beside Harry's.

The bed squeaked, and the noise made Harry open his eyes, "Hermione?"

"Sorry, were you sleeping?" Hermione asked.

"Resting," Harry said, sounding bitter.

The bruises that had covered most of Harry's back had faded to a yellowish shadow occasionally touched by faint reds and purples, "Your back looks better."

Harry huffed into his pillow.

"....I thought Malfoy would still be here," Hermione said in as casual a tone as she could manage.

Harry expression said she hadn't quite managed it.

"Did he go back to the tower without you?" Hermione asked.

That seemed to pull some of the wind out of Harry's sails as he sighed, pulling his pillow down and resting his chin on it. "No. He went to talk to Hagrid."

"Oh," Hermione said.

"They're friends," Harry added sounding bitter or-

"Are you jealous?" Hermione asked.

Harry shot her a glare, "No."

"You do know Hagrid's nearly seventy?"

"I know," Harry muttered.

"And he's only shown interest in Madam Maxine," Hermione added.

"I know," Harry said, "and I'm not jealous."

"Hmmm," Hermione said, thinking.

"Don't you 'hmm' me," Harry said.

"You're in a very snotty mood, aren't you?" Hermione said.

Harry frowned, pressing himself further into his pillow, "....sorry."

Hermione nodded, "So perhaps, you're not jealous of Hagrid, but you are jealous of the time Malfoy is spending with him."

Harry didn't answer.

"So?" Hermione pressed.

Harry's frown grew, "but that makes me seem so petty."

"You've only really dated one person before, and you and Ginny were..."

"More like mates than partners?" Harry said sourly, his words muffled by the pillow, "Ron told me."

"I was going to say you weren't together long. You seemed happy enough to me, but it wasn't my relationship," Hermione said.

"I was happy," Harry said.

"I think you need to understand yours and Malfoy's love languages better," Hermione said.

"I'm not reading a book," Harry said.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "You don't have to, it's not that difficult. It's certainly not something you need to own a book for, once you understand it."

"You bought it," Harry said.

"I checked it out at the library," Hermione said stiffly, "this summer, to help me better understand Ron. He's not good with his words, not that most men are."

"We're english, we're not meant to talk about things like that," Harry said, "It's embarrassing."

"It's not embarrassing, it's helpful," Hermione countered.

Harry turned his entire face into his pillow. But he hadn't covered his ears, so Hermione told him anyway.

"There are five different main love languages, words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time and physical touch. The book said that people usually have a primary and secondary love language. Mine are first and foremost words of affirmation and then physical touch."

"I don't want to hear about your love life, Mione," Harry said.

"It's not- it's not horny," Hermione said with a frown.

Harry laughed and actually looked at her rather than trying to smother himself in a pillow.

Hermione crossed her arms, "It's hugging and holding hands and kissing, showing physical affection. Now if you're done being puerile."

"Pure-what?" Harry asked.

"Childish," Hermione said, and went on, "Ron's main love language is physical touch and then acts of service. Once I understood how Ron shows his love, it's much easier to notice and appreciate when he does."

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

"Your love languages, I would guess, are quality time and acts and service, which is why Malfoy leaving you to do something else is making you feel like a great sulky baby," Hermione said.

"I am not-"

Hermione held up a finger, "I would, highly, disagree."

Harry put his face back into the pillow.

Hermione sighed and said, mostly musing to herself, "I would guess Malfoy's are gifts and words of affirmation."

"thuer nhois," Harry said, too garbled to make out.

"What?" Hermione said, "Harry, if you're going to talk to me, try actually talking to me."

Harry lifted his face out of the pillow, staring fixedly at the metal bars of the headboard, "they're not."

"Uhuh," Hermione said flatly.

"It's more.... more touch and quality time, I think," Harry said, "...could be acts of service..."

"Oh," Hermione blinked, taken slightly aback as her mind tried to make sense of the new information, "well... the nobility are generally more repressed and private." It just wasn't what she had imagined Malfoy to be like, in the least.

Harry sighed, "He's not- ...I think you'd like him if you got knew him. He reminds me of you sometimes, except more annoying ...but in a good way."

"Well, if you stay close to him, I'm sure I will get to know him," Hermione said diplomatically. 

She had trouble conceiving of a Malfoy outside of the one she had known for the first six years of school. But she had decided she would understand him, no matter her doubts. Because he was becoming important to Harry, very quickly; as fast as Harry had latched onto Ron when they were eleven, he seemed to be drawn to Malfoy now. Harry was one of her best friends, she would make it work.

"Here are those books, Hermione," Pomfrey said, holding out three books, "I always keep a few spare copies for curious students, the library's selection is somewhat lacking."

Hermione met her halfway and took the books with a grateful smile, "Thank you! I'll read these right away!"

"If you have time, you have your own studies to worry about," Pomfrey said with a smile, patting her arm, "And it's sunday, everyone deserves a break, now and then. Don't push yourself too hard."

Hermione held onto her smile until Pomfrey was back in her office before letting it turn into a frown. No one seemed to be worrying about this as much Hermione thought they ought to.

Perhaps, she needed to visit Hagrid as well. She could get a more detailed description of the thestral's decline and maybe test the body. If there wasn't a spell for it, she'd find a way to get a hospital to do it. She didn't want anything to happen to Thomas, not if she could do anything to help.

-

-

"Well... here's the thing," Hagrid said slowly, staring out at the treeline down by the stables, "I thought she'd been attacked that night cause of her leg bleedin' but knowin' now that it was a werewolf bite, it coulda been that night or three days before."

"Three days?" Hermione said, pulling her scarf up to cover her ears.

Hagrid nodded, "I don't check on the herd as much in the winter, only twice a week or so. They get plenty to eat scavenging off off roadkill, it last ages when it's cold an' all. Don't worry none, I make sure they're good and disillusioned so even muggles that could see 'em couldn't."

Hermione shivered, her mind conjuring images of shadowy figures running beside cars, shining eyes, and strange, impossible shapes outlined in the darkness....

Hermione shook her head. She was getting distracted.

"Hagrid could you tell me the thestral's symptoms and if they changed while you were taking care of her?" Hermione asked.

Hagrid tugged absently on his beard, "Hmm... she was listless and weak, once I got her back to the paddock, she got real shivery an' by the next day she quit eatin' and drinkin'. Day after that, she lay down and jus' seemed ter give up. Next day I put her down..." he sniffed patting his pockets until he found a grey handkercheif and blew his nose loudly.

"Do you know of any diseases that affect thestrals and humans?" Hermione asked.

Hagrid shook his head and stuffed his handkercheif away.

"What did you do with the body?" Hermione frowned to herself, "Or remains? Is remains better?"

Hagrid gave her a watery smile, "Nice of yeh to think of me."

Hermione bounced on her heels with barely controlled nervous energy.

"I've got to vanish it or burn it to nothin'," Hagrid said, "Yeh can't leave anything that a muggle might stumble on. Sorry."

Hermione deflated, "Oh... so there's nothing left?"

" 'Fraid not," Hagrid said.

Hermione racked her brain, "....What about the stall the thestral was in? The bandages?"

"Cleaned 'em up," Hagrid said and then, kindly added, "but yer free to go take a look, might be somethin' I missed."

Hermione nodded, "I will."

"Draco's was out that way doin' his flyin'. Lost track of him so if yeh see him tell to head over my way," Hagrid said, nodding up the tree line, "I'll have a look over this way."

-

-

Hermione glanced up as she headed to the stables but quickly forgot about looking for Malfoy. Inside, she found the stall the thestral had been was pristine. She tried a few spells, diagnosis spells tuned to show biological matter, but nothing happened. She sighed and turned to leave when a thought struck her, and she hurried to the cabinet that held Hagrid's medical potions and salves. She redid the spell and found two bottles and a jar glowed faintly. She used the same diagnostic spell Pomfrey had used on Thomas, and the two bottles were marked by the same thread of bright blue.

Hermione opened her beaded bag, summoning a plastic bag and levitating the two bottles into it. If there wasn't enough on them to get a sample to test, she'd just have to convince Pomfrey to let her draw some blood. Then she had to contend with the depressing idea that the wizarding world might not have syringes because they believed magic and potions fixed everything.

She closed the stable doors behind her and zipped up her jacket, fussing with her scarf as she walked. Ahead of her, one of the trees along the forest edge shook. Snow showered off its branches and Hermione had taken two more steps before it registered in her mind that it would take something quite large to shake a tree of that size.

She froze, reaching for her wand as she studied the branches, coloured black and white in a patchwork of snow and dark wood. Whatever it was moved again and Hermione was able to make out something hooked and black that at first reminded her of the sharp claw on the wing joint of a thestral, but the wing, if it was one, was too pale, blending with the snow. And even if it was albino or had some other condition that caused a lack of melanin, there was absolutely no reason for a thestral to be in a tree.

"....merlin fucking...." a familiar voice cursed.

Hermione's brow furrowed, "Malfoy?"

All movement in the tree stopped.

"Are you stuck in a tree?" Hermione asked, trying not to laugh.

The white- cloak? moved down so Hermione could see Malfoy's face, he looked to be very embarrassed. He eventually sighed and answered, "...I suppose I am."

"Would you like some help?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious to see if he would say yes.

"That depends on how good your is aim with a severing charm," Malfoy said carefully.

Hermione smiled. It was a clever way of not saying yes and yet still getting help, "What would I be cutting?"

Malfoy nodded to a branch slightly below him, "If this was out of the way, I could drop down and get to the ground."

Hermione walked over, glancing at Malfoy who seemed to be wrapped up in that strange cloak before looking at the branch. She took a few steps around the tree until she found an angle that would send the charm out and away from Malfoy, "I'm going to cast."

Malfoy leaned back.

Hermione bit her lip, concentrating hard on the words, diffindo, as she flicked her wrist down and to the right in a sharp slash. She almost thought she hadn't managed it when the branch creaked and snapped, crashing down to the ground as Hermione hurriedly backed away.

"Nice wordless casting," Malfoy said.

"Thank you," Hermione said. She cleared her throat, "Are you going to come down? I could cast a levitation spell?"

Malfoy grimaced, "No that's..." he shook his head and said with forced politeness, "I'll be fine. You could continue on your way if you wished."

"That's kind of you, but Harry would be very upset with me if I left and you got hurt," Hermione said with equal politeness, not exactly lying but also completely unwilling to miss seeing Malfoy struggle his way out of a tree.

"Fine..." Malfoy muttered, moving his cloak.

"So why are you in a tree? Hagrid said you were flying." Hermione said.

"I was," Malfoy said.

Strangely Hermione saw Malfoy's trousers first, like her mind didn't quite want to focus on his feet, with black claws like eagle talons except that the scaling was white tinged with pink instead of yellow. And while she was thinking that, part of her mind was saying, He meant literally flying, and then coming full circle, she was back to his black trousers and how they didn't suit the rest of him at all. Adding to the strangeness, Malfoy wasn't wearing a shirt, but he did have a rather lumpy purple scarf wrapped around his neck.

Malfoy's feet clutched around the lowest branch, the hook of his- it was a wing in the same colouring because it was the colour of his skin- the talon on the top of his wing hooked over a branch by his head to lower himself with more fluid grace than the movement deserved.

"Flying is easy. It's landing that's quite hard and needed the practice. I suppose I was feeling overconfident and decided to try landing in a tree. It didn't go well," Malfoy said, tilting his head as he considered the distance to the ground.

Hermione considered offering to levitate Malfoy down again, but there was a lump caught in her throat that she couldn't get past.

Malfoy curled a wing talon around the branch he was standing on, and the swung down, his talon letting go on the upward curve of his arc, his wings opening and flapping down once with such speed and force that wind and loose snow whipped against Hermione's face. Then he landed, easily. His practice had gone well it seemed, at least when trees weren't involved.

Malfoy tucked his wings up against his chest and watching Hermione with the same sort of expression he had worn to his trial, except with more defiance and a fragile sort of pride.

"Lovely scarf," Hermione said faintly.

"Hagrid insisted," Malfoy said. He shifted, lifting one arm to show the thin skin of his wing stretching all the way down his sides, "I can't wear a shirt, he was worried I would catch cold."

"Are you? Cold?" Hermione asked haltingly.

"Not when I'm flying," Malfoy said.

"Would like me- I could cast a warming spell?" Hermione offered.

"I... would appreciate that," Malfoy said awkwardly.

Hermione reached for her wand and then stopped, "It's alright, me getting my wand out? I won't hurt you."

"It's fine," Malfoy said.

"You're sure?" Hermione asked again.

Malfoy nodded. There was the smallest of smirks in the corner of his mouth.

Hermione fumbled her wand out and cast a warming charm as her mind assembled little facts and put them together like pieces of a jigsaw: Malfoy was outside, fully transformed into a creature that could fly, and was resistant to spells. He was a lot stronger than he looked, and he had the equivalent of knives attached to his body. And he had a calming allure that practically sedated Hermione the last time she encountered it.

This wasn't the tower where Malfoy was trapped, human and outnumbered. He wasn't afraid of her and had very little reason to. She was the one that should be afraid.

Hermione shuddered, even as she did her best to hide her sudden discomfort.

"I would change back, but then I wouldn't have the energy to change again," Malfoy said, almost like an apology, a sideways way of acknowledging her unease. "I still want to try a few more landings before lunch." He smiled ruefully, "No trees this time."

"It's the size," Hermione said. She took a deep, bracing breath and let it out all at once, "You need a much bigger tree, and you would probably only land on the large lower branches. There's just too much... density in the upper canopy."

Malfoy nodded, "Maybe another day."

"I am a little surprised you're out here," Hermione nodded to the grounds.

Malfoy's brow twitched up, "Are there other places I don't know about?"

Hermione shook her head, trying to think of a delicate way of putting the question, "You just never struck me as someone who would be comfortable being publicly..."

"Different? Strange? A half-breed?" Malfoy offered, bitterness coating his joking tone.

"Well, yes," Hermione said.

Malfoy looked down at his feet, talons digging into the snow.

He seemed to be deciding what to say, and Hermione was dreadfully curious, so she waited.

"There are plenty of people who hate me for who I am already, this won't make it any worse. There's a good chance it will actually dissuade them from trying to hurt me."

"Oh," Hermione said, remembering Harry talking about Malfoy being bullied and feeling a sudden pang of guilt at her past self's indifference.

"I'm mostly worried about the few I care about," Malfoy said.

Hermione's eyebrows slowly rose. Because it was purebloods that cared about half-breeds and half-bloods and impurity more than anyone. And purebloods who had joined Voldemort who believed that more than anyone. And Lucius Malfoy who was, once, one of Voldemort's most trusted followers.

"But your father loves you," Hermione said, a note of doubt creeping into her voice.

"Yes," Malfoy said flatly, pulling his wings tighter around himself, "but does he love me more than legacy?"

Hermione bit her lip and shook her head.

Malfoy shrugged, "I don't know either."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said.

Malfoy's eyes widened, and he looked away, flushing faintly with embarrassment, "Never-it's fine."

"You sound like Harry," Hermione said, chiding just a bit. "It's not fine. It's okay to be upset about it. Sometimes we need to mourn the things we've lost and the things that hurt us so that we can move on."

"You sound like a mind healer," Malfoy said, with just a touch of his old taunting tone.

Hermione frowned at him, "I've been seeing one."

Malfoy at least had the decency to look guilty about what he said.

"It's helpful," Hermione said.

"I'm- I'm sure it is," Malfoy said. He shifted his weight and looked around, "Talking to you was... interesting, and rather exhausting, so I hope you don't mind if I go."

Hermione lifted her chin "You might as well get used to it if you're going to stay with Harry."

Malfoy stared at her and then nodded, "I'll get used to it."

"Then I'll talk to you later, Malfoy," Hermione said.

"Until we meet again, Granger," Malfoy said, dipping his head in a faint bow and then crouching down and jumping, wings spreading out in one fluid movement followed by a few hard wingbeats. Hermione closed her eyes against the snow of wind that whipped up around her, and when she opened them, Malfoy was already a pale shape in the distance.